


A Stupid Idea

by Krosis



Category: Agent Pendergast Series - Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6964672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krosis/pseuds/Krosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corrie Swanson accompanies Pendergast on a road trip. In the end, it proves to be nothing at all like she had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Interstate 10, somewhere between New Orleans and Austin, Texas. Dusk had set. The last rays of sunlight painted the sky a beautiful pink, gold and crimson red. The road was deserted, safe from a lone 1959 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith.  
Behind the wheel sat Special Agent Pendergast. Next to him, slumped in her seat, Corrie Swanson.  
Some six hours ago they had left the Louisiana bayous and set for Texas where they would visit the 17th annual FBI Conference on Training, Crime Prevention and Criminal Justice.  
This year, the program mainly centered on cyber crime and the theft of hand-held electronics. Even though this was not exactly Corrie's field, Pendergast had invited her to come along, claiming attendance would be 'an excellent opportunity to add a significant amount of breath to her education'. Whatever his motives for visiting were, remained a mystery.  
For what seemed like the millionth time, Corrie reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone, only to put it back again. No Wi-Fi. No new messages. No new Instagram posts to comment on. She already knew this before checking the screen but still, it wasn't like there was anything else to occupy her with.  
At first, the idea of making a mini-road trip with the Rolls seemed exciting: she could discuss theories with Pendergast, ask him all kinds of stuff and maybe (if she was really lucky) she could even get him to try a double bacon cheeseburger. But in the end, agreeing to go with him had turned out to a stupid idea. Pendergast apparently preferred to drive in silence and Hell would freeze over before he'd even so much as look at fast food. Checking her phone for nonexistent new messages was the only way to provide her brain with the external stimuli it so desperately needed.  
Anybody who claimed it was impossible to become brain dead of sheer boredom obviously hadn’t tried to sit through a road-trip with Special Agent Pendergast and no Internet.  
Pendergast passed her a sideways glance. "I think you'll be pleased to hear that we've almost reached our destination," he announced.  
"Define _almost_ ," Corrie growled.  
"Two more hours and we're there."  
She sighed. "You know, your definition of 'almost' is definitely different from mine."  
"Perhaps," Pendergast replied, a hint of amusement is his voice. "Nonetheless you might find it useful to become a little more skilled in practicing some patience."  
Corrie failed to see the humor in this. "Yeah for sure. Just because you're good at meditation..." She rolled her eyes. "Most _normal_ people think sitting in a car for six hours straight is way too long."  
"I do think cutting down on the use of hyperboles wouldn’t hurt either. We made a stop somewhere around Houston. Besides, I think you should know by now that I do not and will not fit in to the category of ‘normal people’."  
"Okay, okay. You got me there."  
Still, she would be glad when she could finally leave the car to stretch her legs. If only the time didn't pass so agonizingly slow...  
Perhaps meditation wasn't such a bad idea after all. Corrie adjusted her position so she sat a bit more upright and closed her eyes.  
Admittedly, she did not know very well how to proceed from there. She had only tried to meditate once before, while sitting alone in a much too narrow corridor on the top floor of the Haaren Hall building, waiting to take an oral exam on ethics. Terrified, because she did not study as well as she should have done, she’d hoped meditation might have helped to calm her nerves. But her efforts were screwed up by the prominent odor of sweaty, equally anxious fellow students terrorizing her nose. To make matters worse, her own fearful thoughts kept interrupting her.  
This time, sitting in the passenger seat of the Rolls, things weren't much better.  
Corrie had a hard time working up enough concentration to focus on her breathing.  
Is counting your breaths the same as _thinking_ about counting your breaths? Every time she thought she had the answer, her mind launched right into another stream of thoughts. And somehow, that stream always seemed to end up at the person sitting next to her.  
To any other, Special Agent Pendergast might look rather intimidating. With his ghostlike complexion, piercing eyes and his dead black suit, he did not exactly look what you’d call attractive. Not to mention his cheekbones; you could probably cut yourself on those. But Corrie had long since decided he was handsome.  
The way he moved -words like 'feline' and 'graceful' sprang to mind- was downright attractive. As for his hands she once thought of as scary- they now fascinated her.  
Sometimes, during long metro rides or a boring lecture, she caught herself comparing other men’s hands to his. None of them were as elegant (or as well-manicured) as Pendergast's. Not by a long shot.  
Years ago, when she'd assisted Pendergast on her first real murder case, she'd wondered if perhaps she wasn't a bit in love with him. And she had wondered many more times thereafter. But no- it wasn't love, she thought. At least, not the mushy-mushy head over heels and butterflies in your stomach kind of crap. More like... Lust? An unhealthy fascination?  
After all this time, she still didn't know.  
Corrie opened her eyes. Meditation obviously wasn't going to work. Time to check her phone once again. A small square of text had appeared, informing her the battery was now running low. Other than that, still nothing. Her eyes travelled from the screen to Pendergast’s hands resting on the polished steering wheel. His skin was so pale she could easily follow the paths of the blue veins, meandering all the way up to where his long, thin fingers began.  
Unusual hands, especially for a man. Yet, however delicate they may seem, Pendergast was handling the wheel with the same ease and control as he'd handle a gun. He has killed with those hands, she knew.  
But still, she wondered. What would it feel like? Those hands, roaming over her naked skin? _Oh dear God no. Corrie, please, stop it. Just stop._  
Immediately, she felt a blush spreading on her cheeks, embarrassed by the way her body responded to her musings. Suddenly, the white surface markings on the asphalt seemed awfully intriguing.  
But if Pendergast had noticed her embarrassment at all, he gave no sign of it. Thank God for his good breeding.  
"Just half an hour now," he merely said.

Despite her earlier eagerness to get out, Corrie now felt a strange kind of panic rising in her chest. In a little while, they would arrive in Austin and then there wouldn't be any time left for... For what, exactly?  
The idea appeared from out of nowhere. It was both risky and too foolish for words, with a strong emphasis on the latter. And she was afraid that, if she gave it any more than a few seconds worth of thought, she'd immediately regret whatever she was about to say. Which was exactly why she had to act quickly.  
"Wait, wait. Pendergast, could you pull over?" Apparently she had sounded alarming enough, for Pendergast promptly stopped the Rolls at a nearby wayside.  
"All right, Corrie. I stopped. Now why did you want me to do that?"  
 _Good question. The only thing is, I'm not sure whether I dare to give you the answer._  
"Well, I..." Corrie feverishly racked her brain for a believable lie. But lying would be useless. Pendergast would see right through her the moment the words would leave her mouth. Better to just tell the truth then. _Okay, here we go._  
She took a deep breath; telling her heart to please, please slow down to a normal pace. "Pendergast," she said, "touch me."  
More words refused to come out, and she realized she had just sounded somewhat like Rose from _The Titanic_ , but then a thousand times more cheesy. It could have been worse, though. Initially she planned on saying 'fuck' instead of 'touch'. Thankfully she was able to change the word in time. Pendergast and his aversion to profanity.

 _"I beg you pardon?"_  
"You heard me," Corrie said softly. She did not dare to look at him, so instead she studied her fingers. The blush was back, in full force.  
There was a long silence. Pendergast seemed to think.  
"What about this latest, ah, _acquaintance_ of yours? Adam, was his name? What do you think he will say about this?"  
That was an answer she did not expect. Where the Hell did he want to go with that?  
"Adam?" she repeated, still trying to make sense of whatever Pendergast had just said, "He wasn't my boyfriend. We didn't have a relationship or anything... Besides, he was an asshole. I mean, he wasn't a nice person at all," she quickly corrected herself. "So, err, no. No boyfriend."  
Corrie worked up the courage to look up from her hands and found Pendergast regarding her with cool, grey eyes. "Why do you ask me this?" he asked her. His tone was calm. _Sounding just like a goddamn therapist, or worse- like a worried father._  
Corrie knew she was supposed to maintain eye contact now, like any proper human being her age would do, but it was getting to be too much- she quickly let her eyes skitter back to her hands. "Because... Because..." God, this was getting really awkward really fast. Why exactly did she have to be so stupid to bring this up? "Because I want you to," she finally managed. "Those boyfriends I had, well, they were nothing but a pointless waste of time. All nice and sweet but as soon as they come across someone they deem more fuckable, they're gone. They never give me anything. But you, you saved me. You believed in me when nobody did and got me out of Medicine Creek. You saved me from my mother, who didn't give a damn about me... Hell, you even saved me from myself. So if you ask me why I want this, it is because I want you- no, I _need_ you in my life."  
There, she said it. It wasn't what she had wanted to say at all and she was sure her rant must have sounded terribly childish. But in all its cheesiness, it was still the truth.  
Only when she was done speaking, she noticed tears streaming down her face. She quickly wiped them away. _Jesus Christ. Look at me. Twenty-three years old and still not able to explain my feelings for someone without bawling like a baby. Fucking great._ "Sorry," she sniffled. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just being stupid. Again."  
Pendergast did not react immediately. Her confession, as well as her tears, seemed to have taken him aback.  
"My dear Corrie," Pendergast had reached in one of the pockets of his jacket and handed her a handkerchief, "I want you to promise me something. Promise me you will never again unnecessarily apologize for something. Especially for crying."  
Corrie gave him a watery smile. "Okay," she said. "I'll try".  
"Now about your, ah, request. Although I understand your sentiment, you must know I'm unable to give you whatever it is you ask from me."  
Not that she had harbored any serious hope that Pendergast would hone her request, but still. His rejection hit her anyway. "Oh," she said, trying hard to hide her disappointment. "But-"  
"Remember what I told you when we were standing in that cornfield back in Medicine Creek?"  
"Yes." _Every single goddamn word._  
"I meant what I said," he simply stated.  
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Corrie felt anger rising. Didn't he, after all these years, have any better reason to offer? Before she knew it, the words were out of her mouth.  
"Is that your only objection? Our so-called "differing position of power"? Because if it is, well, think again because maybe it hasn't occurred to you yet, but we actually live in the twenty-first century! Besides, I have a life now. Something I couldn't say back in Shit-hole Creek."  
"Corrie, no that is not-" Pendergast began.  
"Then what is? _Age?_ " she spat at him. "I know you had no problem boning Constance last year and she is, how old? Either three years younger than me or close to a hundred and fucking fifty!"  
A ringing silence fell. Is seemed to stretch on for ages before Pendergast finally spoke.  
"Who told you this?" His voice was sharp as a dagger.  
Corrie shrugged. "Constance."  
" _Constance_ told you?"  
"Yes."  
Corrie barely dared to speak. "So... is it true?"  
"Of course it is not. And I had hoped you would know better than to believe such blatant lies." He still sounded as if he could cut something with his voice.  
For a while, nobody spoke. Pendergast appeared to be absorbed in thought.  
Then he did something Corrie'd never expected him to do. Very carefully, Pendergast reached over to brush a strand of dyed black hair out of her face. With the same hand he gently lifted her chin. It caused a feeling she could not quite place to appear in her stomach.  
"Corrie, look at me." His tone now serious but not unkind. "I dearly hope you will believe me when I say you are a remarkable young woman, and I am proud of you. However, this," he waved a hand, "you and I -and forgive me for sounding somewhat harsh- we have no future together. I'll gladly pay for your tuition because I take pride in watching you become a brilliant law enforcer but any further _involvement_ of mine other than that will only serve to interfere with your future. And that is something I do not wish for you at all. Do you understand this?"  
Corrie merely nodded. Her anger seemed to have vanished the moment he touched her hair.   
"Very well, then." Pendergast said with a strong note of finality. "Let us put this conversation to rest."  
Again, Corrie nodded. But then she thought of something. "Hey, Aloysius? May I ask you something else?"  
"That entirely depends on the nature of the 'something else'"  
"Could you at least hug me? Please?"  
Pendergast contemplated this for a while.  
Then, to Corrie’s relief, he said, "I suppose I could do that, yes. If it will help to get this whole thing out of your mind."

* * *

 

It was quite an effort to climb from the passenger's seat over to the driver's but eventually, she succeeded. Corrie sat on the Pendergast’s lap, her knees on either side of his hips.  
When she hugged him, Pendergast tensed for the shortest of moments before folding his arms around her and holding her close; his chin resting on her short, black hair. The fine fabric of his jacket was nice and soft against her cheek. She could feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. She could hear his heart beating. And -but maybe she was just imagining it- she could feel the faint outline of his muscular torso underneath his suit.  
Maybe she had been wrong about those butterflies. Because they were definitely here right now, making a goddamn mess of her ability to think straight. To distract herself, Corrie played with his tie for a bit. She focused on watching the smooth silk slipping through her fingers.  
Without really knowing what she was doing, she tried to undo his tie. Seconds later, it smoothly slid from around his neck. She caught it and gently laid it on the now empty passenger’s seat. Pendergast looked at her, an expression akin to amusement on his face.  
Now what? Should she kiss him? She definitely wanted to, but she didn't know how the man would react. He would probably push her away. As gently as possible, of course, but it would be more than she could take at the moment.  
With a sigh, Corrie settled back against his chest.  
"What are you thinking about?" Pendergast asked.  
"You".  
Although Corrie could not see his face, she simply knew Pendergast had raised a blonde eyebrow at that. He didn’t speak, but shifted in the soft leather seat. Their embrace had taken long enough for his lining.  
It was now or never.  
Quickly and without thinking, Corrie pressed a kiss on his cheek; her lips barely touching his smoothly shaven skin. Then, without any reservation, on his thin, perfect lips.  
To her utter surprise he did not pull away. Instead, after some initial hesitation he returned the kiss.  
When they broke apart, Pendergast calmly regarded her. A slight smile played around his lips. "I should have known," he simply stated.  
"What?"  
"You understand, but you don't accept," came the somewhat cryptical reply. "Once you set your mind to something, there really is no use getting that out of you."  
A slight pause.  
"So if this is really what you want-"  
Corrie interrupted him before he could say any more. "Do you want this as well? she asked him. She needed to hear him say it.  
But Pendergast replied by pressing his lips against hers.  
It was a deeper kiss, this time. Passionate, even. A kiss that silenced the butterflies and roused desire.  
Corrie pressed self against him, feverishly fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.  
Pendergast stopped her.  
"We should move," he breathed.  
"Move?"  
"To the backseat."


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had gone down for some time. The parking area was shrouded in darkness, except for a circle of yellowish sodium light, emitted by a dented lamppost. A stray cat cautiously moved into the light in its search for something to eat.  
Corrie shivered. The temperature had dropped considerably. "Are you cold?"   
Pendergast had gotten out as well. He closed the car door behind him, his black tie lying abandoned in the driver's seat. "We could wait until we've arrived a the hotel. If you prefer..."   
But Corrie had already climbed onto the backseat. Pendergast got in after her, folding himself into the smooth, cream-colored leather. Immediately she was all over him again, kissing his nose, his lips, all of his face within her reach. She'd hooked her fingers in his white-blonde hair so he could not pull away. But Pendergast didn't look like he wanted to. A slight blush had crept upon his face, giving his normally pale cheeks a light shade of pink. He had brought his hands to her hair as well, toying with it. Suddenly, he stopped.   
"What is-" Pendergast began to inquire. He'd found the patch of hair she'd shaved off a couple of weeks ago.   
"My undercut. Or actually, what's left of it."   
Bored with the haircut she was forced to wear at John Jay, Corrie had tried to find a way to make it more interesting. Bright colors were out of the question, she'd settled with an undercut. But the fear of getting kicked out of her classes had made her adept at hiding the shaved bit. And since the only times she could safely show it off were while she was at her dorm or while going out, she'd decided to let her hair grow out again. (Though her inner rebel had cried because of it)  
All that was left now was a little patch of fluff just above her right ear. With her hands, Corrie combed her hair away, allowing Pendergast to see.  
"What do you think?"   
"It is... different." Pendergast weighed his words carefully. "I must admit I like it better than the pink and yellow you were so fond of at Philips Exeter. And speaking about changing of appearance," he added, "I've also noticed your decided to remove your tongue piercing. A wise decision, if you ask me."  
"Oh you just don't know what you're missing," Corrie replied teasingly, "but if you're sure you like it better without..." She did not bother to finish her sentence. Once again her lips crashed against his, making sure there was as little space between their bodies as possible.   
With renewed effort, she began fumbling with the buttons of Pendergast's shirt. It took a little while before she could get the first button to open. The stupid thing kept slipping from between her impatient fingers. Thankfully, the second and the third were a little easier. A good thing, because she knew she would have simply ripped the garment open if it were to take any longer. Expensive buttons be damned.  
Finally, Corrie managed to open the last one.   
She was reminded again by the incredible paleness of his skin. It was almost as white as the starched fabric of his shirt. His chest was indeed as powerfully muscled as she thought it would be, but what struck her most were the scars. Numerous thin lines; some of them faded, but most of them still clearly visible. Somehow they only seemed to enhance his beauty, Corrie thought. Like the gold-filled cracks on a _kintsugi_ porcelain cup.   
A sudden urge to kiss them came over her, so she did. One by one, as far down as her cramped position on the backseat allowed. She was pleased to hear his breath hitch a little as her lips brushed past his left nipple.   
Her hands had found their way onto his chest, caressing the marks her mouth couldn't reach.  
Another sharp intake of breath as her fingers glided over a particularly nasty scar just above his belt; Pendergast's hand was on her shoulder, gently pushing her away before her hands could travel further down south.   
"No," he said. Corrie thought she detected a faint tone of alarm in his voice. "Not like that."  
"Why not?"  
"Because neither of us have the means to take the necessary precautions."   
Corrie sighed inwardly.  "But I do!" she said. "I mean, I'm on the pill, if that's what you're worried about." Suddenly, Pendergast's face clouded over. For a moment, he looked far away.   
"Are you all right?" Corrie asked him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... I just thought... If you rather not want to-" she began awkwardly.  
"I'm fine, Corrie. Never you mind. My apologies. It's just.." He fell silent, as though thinking the better of finishing the sentence.  
"Turn around, if you will." he eventually said as he seemed to have recollected himself.  
Pendergast put his legs apart so Corrie could maneuver herself in between, her back resting against his chest. Then he brought his hands to the hem of her t-shirt. For the shortest of moments, Pendergast sat idle, fiddling with the fabric as though making up his mind before he helped her draw the shirt up to her arms and then, slowly, over her head. He laid it aside just as carefully as she'd done with his tie.  
Corrie secretly wished she'd put on a fancier bra. This one was black, simple. No lace, no nothing. Sometimes she didn't feel like going full-on Goth, but if she'd known it had come to this...  
"Are you comfortable?" Pendergast asked.   
"Yes."  
"And you are still sure you want me to-"   
"Oh, will you shut up and get a move on. Please?"

Pendergast's hands were cold against her skin. They slid along her torso, her ribs, her belly, along the waist of her jeans. In the artificial light coming through the Rolls' windows, they looked strangely aglow. His cool touch made a shiver run down her spine.    
"My apologies," Pendergast said between soft little kisses on the top of her head. "It's okay," she whispered. She did not dare to speak any louder. Afraid he might stop if she did.   
But Pendergast's hands continued their path over her skin and soon, his fingertips felt no longer cold, but spread warmth wherever they roamed. And her shivers were no longer of cold either. Yet however good it made her feel, it wasn’t enough.  
She wanted more. Corrie took hold of both his hands and placed somewhat unceremoniously on her bra. "Please?," she whispered again, looking up at him. Pendergast merely inclined his head.   
"But don't look just yet, okay?"  Corrie said before leaning slightly forwards so Pendergast could undo the clasps. She quickly shrugged the garment off.   
Ever the gentleman, Pendergast did as he was asked. His hands stayed on her back as he ran his fingers lightly along the soft red marks the straps had left on her skin. His lips followed the path of his fingers, but suddenly, Pendergast stopped.  
"Piercings?" Corrie heard him gasp.  
"What? How do you know? I told you not to look!" Pendergast ignored this.   
Corrie realized he must've sneaked a glance through the rearview mirror. "It must have hurt." There was a distinct note of concern in his voice, which made Corrie feel the need to defend herself.  
"Meh, it was nothing I couldn't handle." The truth was, she nearly passed out after the piercer had finished his job but that was something he didn't need to know.  
"I had to to come up with something to replace my tongue piercing, " she shrugged.   
"Of course you did," Pendergast said. Then he added, "May I see?" Corrie adjusted her position so he could take a look. Two small, shiny metal balls sat on both sides of her nipples. Much to Corrie's satisfaction, the agent's pupils widened ever so slightly as he inspected the adornments.  
"Well, what are you waiting for? Don't make me wait any longer," she said, as she demonstratively settled herself back against his chest, making sure the man had a nice view on her piercings.  
Pendergast proceeded to touch them. 

Carefully, he let his fingers graze the metal, as if not fully convinced they didn't hurt anymore. It made all of the tiny hairs on her arms stand upright, and she gasped as she felt her nipples grow hard underneath his touch. Corrie closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his hands on her breasts.   
"How does it feel?" Pendergast asked.  
"It's good," she breathed.  
"And now?" With the pads of his thumbs he drew slow, languid circles. Corrie could only moan in response, her breath now coming in short gasps.  
"Corrie, I would like you to tell me exactly what you feel." Pendergast's words were dripping with sweet, luscious honey. As if his touch wasn't enough to make her lust for things she never knew she wanted.  
"I- I- Can't describe," she gasped. "Not without using a four letter w- ahhh fuck _yes_ do that again." Pendergast had taken one of her piercings between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled gently, very gently before letting go.   
"I take it you like what I'm doing?"  
"Oh yes please, please Pendergast, yes please more." If he didn't fuck her right here and right now, she was sure she'd go insane.   
What little patience she had was gone. This was taking way too long. If he wasn't going to give it to her, she would have to do it herself. Roughly, Corrie shoved a hand into her panties. But before she could pleasure herself, Pendergast took hold of her wrist and brought it to his mouth to, one by one, kiss her knuckles.   
"Allow me," he purred. Together they feverishly worked to remove her jeans and panties.  
He made her wait a little longer, taking his time to play with her nipples, to tease her, stroking her thighs until she begged him to please, _please_ get inside her, to finger her because she was so incredibly wet and she couldn't take it any more.   
"My dear, beautiful, Corrie. You should know I highly enjoy seeing you like this. So aroused..." Pendergast murmured softly in her ear. "It is- what do they call it these days? It's fucking hot."   
The use of the expletive, along with the apparent need in those last words took Corrie by surprise. Never had she heard Pendergast speak like this before. His voice was hoarse and trembled ever so slightly, the calm and collected manner he usually expressed himself in completely gone. 

By the time one of Pendergast's hands finally drifted between her legs, Corrie was squirming restlessly in his lap. She whimpered as he slowly, oh so agonizingly slow, slid one of his long digits inside her.   
"Perfect," she heard Pendergast sigh in admiration. He added a second finger, and a third, doing things none of her boyfriends have ever done to her before. On Corrie's urgent request, the agent had now used his other hand to stroke her clit.  
His movements were slow and gentle, only picking up speed as she asked him, begged him to go faster and harder.  
"Ahh yes, hmm oh Jesus- _fuck_ Pendergast ohh Aloysius please please don't stop. Never stop"   
Pendergast's lips brushed the fluff just above her ear as he asked her -please- not to hold back her moans for him. And he whispered sweet little things to her. Things that made her very, very glad nobody else was able hear them.   
But as time passed, he grew quiet.  
Her pleasure had not left him unaffected and he found himself aching for some self-indulgence. He to slowly began to roll his hips against her lower back. A somewhat awkward movement, especially in their position, but it was the only option he had.  
It took a moment for Corrie to process what Pendergast was doing.   
"Fuck oh God yes Aloysius that's just so fucking horny." The idea of Pendergast coming in his pants was nearly too much. As his movements gradually became more and more frantic, Corrie tried her best to match his rhythm, pressing her hips into his long, perfect fingers.   
Soon, Pendergast's low, quiet moans mingled with her higher ones.   
Corrie was the first to come, crying out his first name over and over again, until the syllables merged together into an incomprehensible mess but she didn't care, it didn't matter.   
Moments later, she felt Pendergast's frame convulse behind her back as he, too, reached his climax. " _Corrine..._ " he uttered; preceded by something she thought to be a Latin obscenity.  
Coming from his mouth, it sounded like a two-word poem.

Together they lay on the soft, cream-colored leather, breathing heavily; not wanting to move as the ecstasy of their orgasms slowly ebbed from their bodies and a glorious feeling of languor took over.  
The conference had long since been driven from their minds.

* * *

 

"Aloysius?" Corrie lay curled up in Pendergast's arms on the backseat of the Rolls, her head on his shoulder.   
It was way past midnight. Pendergast had taken off his jacket and draped it over her to keep her warm. The fabric felt surprisingly soft against her bare skin.   
"Yes, Corrie?"   
"Do we _have_ to be in the hotel tonight?"  
"Would you like me to drive on?" Pendergast asked.   
"No. I'm fine like this."   
"The same goes for me. In case you may need it, I could take a blanket out of the trunk."  
"I don't need a damned blanket.  I have you," Corrie mumbled into the stiff fabric of his collar.   
She felt, rather than saw him smile at that.   
"In that case we'll have to trouble the staff with a no-show this night. Do you mind if I call?  
Corrie stifled a yawn and then grinned. Knowing Pendergast, she knew exactly what kind of phone call that was going to be.   
"They'll be pissed off for sure."  
"Oh I'm positive they will be. And I'm afraid we'll have to aggravate them even more."  
"Why?"  
"Because I'm thinking of informing them that, due to recent, ah, developments, we will not be needing two separate rooms any longer. What do you think?"


End file.
